


The Chase

by runningwithwerewolves



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Demons, Fear, Murder, Non-Consensual Violence, Original Character(s), Original work - Freeform, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwithwerewolves/pseuds/runningwithwerewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hears a vicious laughter behind him, but there's no time to look back. He's too far from anything, too far from the club he started in, far away from the safety of civilization. But he wouldn't have been safe even in numbers, not from such a creature.</p><p>A hideous beast hunts him and will devour him the moment he stops to catch his breath. He can't stop running, and there's no way he can fight. Nothing left to do but hide. And pray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chase

THE AIR IS WARM AS HE RUNS. His chest heaves up and down as he races toward the derelict warehouse in the distance. His heart beats loudly in his ears and there’s a clock ticking somewhere in his mind, counting down the minutes left of his life.

He hears a vicious laughter behind him, but there’s no time to look back. He’s too far from anything, too far from the club he started in, far away from the safety of civilization. But he wouldn't have been safe even in numbers, not from such a creature.

A hideous beast hunts him and will devour him the moment he stops to catch his breath. He can't stop running, and there’s no way he can fight. Nothing left to do but hide. And pray.

The warehouse is getting closer now. Good thing, because he’s been hitting the bar more than the gym the last few years and his ankles are starting to feel it.  A dark figure sweeps past him on the left and he feels something swipe at him. He runs left and curves back right and ducks into the warehouse just in time.

_Whatever it was is clearly working with the demon bastard after me. Can’t let it get me. Gotta hide._

He closes the doors behind him, thick concrete doors and a large latch which he fastens closed. He sees a large cabinet next to the door and gets behind it, using the last of his strength to push it in front of the doors.

When he’s done he looks around and notes the place is windowless and only has a few other entrances. There is also an elevator to the upper level dead ahead. _No way I’m getting in that tin can. Tiny metal death trap if I’ve ever seen one._ He looks left and sees a metal staircase. The floors are littered with sheet metal and rusted nails. He has to find a place, somewhere he could rest, he thinks, but a howl like that of a raging hound rings through the building and a hollow laughter fills the sky, shaking his very bones.

He runs to the staircase across the room and dashes up the stairs. He fumbles a few times, his body shaking from fear and fatigue. The cold of the night sets in as he makes his, slow, careful climb to the second level. His hands so numb he can barely feel the walls he touches to steady himself. He struggles to even stand upright, but he finds a door, one he can hide behind.

His heart beats loudly and he tries to calm it down, but how can he with such devils after him? His heart jumps in his chest as he hears a sudden pound below, something large slapping against the metal. Then another this time more forceful like a body slamming against the doors. _Don’t tell me that demon is trying to kick the door in?_

Another two good slams and the doors give way. He hears metal shrieking and the cabinet sounds like it’s being thrown across the room. He hears growling like that of a feral beast, a heavy breathing followed by scrapping movement below his feet. _They’re close now_. He doesn’t dare move, keeping his mouth closed and his eyes trained on the light down the hall. _Might be a way out._

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing in here asshole?”

He hears another person’s voice then a wicked growl and the man who spoke shouts again.

“Fuck off you damn wolf, and you freakshow. This is a private place!”

“We are here on demonic business. Leave.”

“Oh shit, you’re a demon?”

 _This is my chance._ He walks as slowly as he can, keeping his shoes away from the rusted nails and toolboxes, anything that can make noise as he heads for the open door down the hall.

“Would have thought the horns gave that away?”

“Fuck me…uh sorry yeah, just…try not to make a mess please? This is my workplace. You know, to make a living.”

“You won’t have one if you don’t leave.”

“Yeah, got it. This is me leaving.”

He makes it through the door and curses internally. _No way out. But…not a total waste of time._ He found the jackpot in security. The place has six cameras, and he finds the one for the exterior showing a short man leaving in a truck outside.

“Shit…”

Next he searches for the demon.

A shadowy human figure walks toward the center of the warehouses first floor. Tall and slender, wearing a black muscle shirt and holey black jeans that cover long legs leading to biker boots. His skin is impeccable, pale as a fucking corpse with talons for nails and wrists decked out in bracelets made of leather and steel.

A long neck attaches his angular face to the creature's thin form. A sharp pointed nose centers his square shaped face and gaunt cheeks cut his acute jaw line. The creatures’ outer eyes angle to give a saddened look, but the iris' are intelligent and unnaturally colored in an almost neon green. His hair is tall and spiked, and those horns, carved in bone and peeking out from his hair to curve straight back from his skull. They curve up at the ends to aim toward the sky, colored black.

The man sees something shadowy move next to the demon and his eyes widen. There is a black furred wolf crouched next to the creature. The only reason he saw him was because he moved. That and the molten lava in place of his eyes.

The demon’s gleaming eyes dart across the room. His head tilts slightly letting the moonlight from the open doors into the room and his alabaster skin appears to almost glow as the light brushes over his neck. Another slight movement shifts the light around the curved bone protruding from his head. His clawed fingers extend to grip the fur of his beast lovingly as they walk slowly forward, venturing further into the concrete building.

The man balls his hands into fists and thinks. _He can’t run anymore. There is no one to call, no one nearby that would or could help._ He hears the demon’s boots hit the first step and he moves behind the steel door of the security room.

He remembers there was a window down the hall, and a door downstairs near the back of the building that led to the river. _One of those could work…maybe._ He can hear the hound’s claws scrape along the floor as the two creatures reach the top of the steps. He is struggling now to even breathe as the monster’s approach, now closer to his hiding place. Every step and his hearts tempo races, faster and faster until they are right next to him. To his shock they walk right past his hiding place behind the door and continue down the dark hallway.

They might be far enough now, maybe he thought, he could make a break for the stairs and get back to the club he started in. Being in a crowd of humans might stop the creatures from killing him outright. _They wouldn't rip me apart in public, would they_?

He sneaks out from behind the door and readies himself after laying eyes on the stairs, a heaving breath snorts to his right, and down the hall the beasts stand, still searching for him. The wolf and his master would find him if he stayed any longer, he knows that he’s out of time. He either makes a break for the stairs now or the beasts eat him alive.

 _Just go_ , he thinks, _just go!_ He runs toward the stairs and glances sideways to see the two of them looking his way. The demon's devilish grin says it all. They were waiting. They knew all along where he was, and they were waiting for him.

That short glance cost him dearly, but the man doesn't realize until it's far too late. He misses the first step and falls headlong down the staircase. As he tumbles down he hears the beast’s crude claws scraping along the floor toward him. He hits the landing at an angle and nearly breaks his neck. He finds himself almost wishing he had, because he knows just what will happen if he doesn't escape now.         

The man gets onto his hands and knees through great effort and watches uselessly as a line of blood drips from his mouth. He tastes the iron in the back of his throat, and bends his knee forward, trying to stand. He doesn't understand why the beast isn't ripping him apart yet, here he is just lying helpless in a tormented heap and for some reason unknown to him, he is still breathing. 

He looks up the stairs as he pushes himself to a standing position. The demon is gripping the beasts' fur, the lean creature holds his hound back and the mongrel gnarls and spits ready to be let loose and tear through the man's flesh.

The demon is stone faced as he glares downward with his gleaming eyes at the man, his terror plainly visible to the immortal being. Time seems to drag on forever as they stare at one another, but it begins to move again, the moment the master suddenly breaks into a menacing grin. Ear to ear he beams in delight as he lifts his arm and lets the beast run free. The man runs so hard, his lungs feel as though they could burst from his chest. He hears himself yelling as he makes his way toward the open-door frame at the end of the hall before him.

He can't speak and what breath he has comes out jagged and hard as the beast's claws dig into his back, he can feel them buried in-between his ribs. It's a miracle he's alive at all, but he knows that would soon be corrected. He knows he's going to die, and he can do nothing about it. Nothing but stare at his soon-to-be-murderers. All he can do is stare and remember, that this is all his fault.

Back at the club, he'd opened his big, stupid mouth. Half drunk and having a bad day he'd spouted on about a secret vendetta of his to no one in particular. His family was killed by monsters and he'd vowed long ago that he would repay the favor, it didn't matter to him that his family was a bunch of monsters themselves, they were his family, his blood and he'd always been taught that nothing else mattered.

Some who knew his family would have said that they deserved everything they got, but it didn't matter to him because they were all he had. He had to make the demons who killed him pay, but he spouted off his hatred in the wrong place at the right time, he'd gone and angered the beast, and now he was paying for his stupidity and disrespect. Paying the ultimate price.

He knew then, as the hounds' hot breath scorched his neck, that he was getting what he deserved, not for the remarks he'd made in the club, but for all the terrible things he'd done alongside his family. They'd killed so many innocent people together, and now in the final moments of his sinful life, he refused to feel any pity for himself. After all, he is a monster. It seems like fate, that a pair of beasts would be the ones to end his hideous existence.  _Fate, or irony. It doesn't matter now._

He looks at the creature standing above him; the being stroking his hound amorously. The creature looks down upon him, his eyes glowering into the man, as if he could examine his very soul. Even as the beast sears the man's neck with his vicious breath and beads of sweat seep his clothing and the floor beneath him, the creature’s eyes still manage to send a chill through him.

He knows what he must see. A black and twisted soul. A mistake in his mother’s eyes, born as the result of a drunken mistake and raised by a father who used him as a tool for which he expressed his desires for violence daily. The way the creature looked at him in that moment, he had pierced his very being. The man then knew that the creature could see, every crime, every sin. The demon had judged his soul and found it not a shade lighter than his own. The man saw no mercy in those bright eyes, and knew it was over for him. The demon leaned back slightly and let go of his beasts’ fur.

            Then the claws ripped from his back and he watched something hideous and truly incredible. Bones popped, and muscles rippled. Fur disappeared underneath tan skin and a buzz-cut head, soon enough the ferocious wolf was a bare-naked man crouched next to his bleeding form.

            He hadn’t noticed before, but one of his molten fire eyes was scarred and blind, the other now a fierce blue and human. He was covered in sweat and a thin layer of blood. Fangs and claws long hidden. The demon’s lips parted, and he smirked, a green smoke, the color of his eyes appearing near his right hand. It swirled around his arm then dispersed as the demon slammed a wicked ebony blade into the cement floor.

            “You have committed crimes against The Dominion.” The demon says with a sardonic smile, “Usually I wouldn’t give a shit, really wasting my time with a human. You’re weak. Pathetic. But, I was ordered to find you and stop you from going through with your plan. So here we are.”

            “Plan…”

            He choked the words, blood spewing from his lips.

            “Yep. Don’t care what it is. Don’t waste your precious last moments. Just be grateful for such a great death. You’re not dying at the hands of just anybody today kid.”

            “What? Who…who are you?”

            He plunges the wicked obsidian blade into the man’s spine and the he can feel blood splash against his face, “The name’s Erebus, King of Slaughter.”

**Author's Note:**

> A short story from my FERAS: the wild ones (series).   
> You can also read it here: https://www.wattpad.com/story/148288285-the-chase


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